Westriver Grilled Pork, Skadi Mussel Stew
The students' silence only made Aurora's voice ring out more clearly.
Arms folded, she fixed Skadi with a steady glare. Skadi hesitated, then barely managed an answer.
"I... I'm not very good at ice magic."
"Skadi?"
"Yes?"
"Mnevoir and I handled the cleanup at Björn Arena together. I read the report."
"......"
"What stopped Hervena's Wave Four—that was your ice magic and Rebecca's, wasn't it?"
"...Yes."
"And you mean to let that talent rot? I can overlook a great many things, but not that. Not with my eyes open. Not as a teacher!"
There was no room left in her voice. Aurora turned toward the seats and called out, clear enough for every student to hear.
Skadi's lost gaze found Rebecca, who was looking quietly down at her.
The moment their eyes met, Skadi dropped hers. Aurora asked, as if she truly could not understand.
"Skadi? Are you saying you won't even keep that foundation? And this section—haven't I called you aside and explained it, more than once?"
"I'm sorry."
"Was my explanation lacking?"
"No."
Aurora breathed out a sigh, then spoke more sharply.
"If you approach the third exam the same way, I will give you an F—regardless of your scores on the first and second."
"Yes..."
"You may go."
Skadi bowed and returned to her seat. The air stayed too tight for anyone to speak easily, and only loosened once the next name was called.
Seeing her come back thoroughly deflated, Hervena asked, worried.
"You okay?"
"Well... the professor's told me more than once. It's my fault for not doing it. She must be frustrated out of her mind."
"What are you going to do for the third exam?"
"I don't know. I'll just... use it, I guess. What else can I do? I can't sit through a class I already finished and take it all over again."
A brief silence hung between them.
Hervena was still searching for something comforting when Skadi forced a smile.
"I just want to go to Nynix and eat cheesy corn and potatoes."
"Let's go tomorrow. It'll be Friday."
"Yeah. I'm sleepy. Wake me in a bit."
"Okay."
Skadi folded herself down over the desk.
Hervena watched her with a pang of pity, then draped the blanket she had been using over Skadi's shoulders and turned her eyes back to her notes.
Friday afternoon, behind the Arts and Culture Hall at Capall Central Academy.
The members of Spread, the academy's tarot club, had laid a linen cloth over their table and set out a crystal ball that looked the part.
Members was a generous word. The club consisted of exactly two people: the president and the vice president.
"President..."
"Hm?"
"There... won't be many people, will there?"
Decame, the vice president, said it to Marseille, the president, in a mournful voice.
"The location's terrible, for one..."
"We should have recruited freshmen this time, no matter what it took."
"Letting Spread die by our own hands wouldn't be the worst—"
"Is that something you say right now?!"
Abashed by Decame's outburst, Marseille offered a few words of comfort.
It was their standing routine, played out like clockwork whenever the school held an event.
Their sighs were deepening when a white-haired girl peeked into the booth.
"Ah, hello. I'm from the booth next door."
"Oh—yes! But I don't think I've seen you before... who...?"
"I'm Jane Foresti. I work at Cunsai's booth, right beside yours."
Cunsai—the only beastkin student in the school.
Marseille and Decame weren't in his year, but they had passed him in the halls a few times. They exchanged a look and shrugged.
"And what brings someone from Cunsai's staff?"
"We're about to do some construction next door. I thought I should warn you, in case it startles you."
"I'm sorry—construction?"
An ordinary booth meant dressing the entrance, hanging a few ornaments inside, and calling it done. Construction?
Unable to make sense of it, Marseille tilted his head.
"Um... would it be all right if we took a look?"
"Of course."
A short while later Decame and Marseille pushed the curtain aside and stepped out, and their eyes went wide.
Barbarians too large to take in at a glance were tamping the earth with fierce concentration, and beside the booth a massive wooden tub was going up.
Directing the barbarian laborers was a strikingly handsome red-haired young man dressed like a noble.
Cunsai stood beside him with his hands folded. Recognizing the two, he hurried into a bow.
While Decame and Marseille returned the greeting, a barbarian bellowed—a broad slab of stone across his shoulder, one that would have reached a man's chest if it were stood on end.
"Boss! Stone's here!"
"What stone?"
"The flat cooking stone!"
"Put that on the opposite side!"
"Got it!"
Then the barbarian set the stone down with a gentleness that did not match his bulk at all.
Decame rubbed his eyes at the unbelievable sight and spoke carefully.
"What in the world is all this...?"
"Haha. You'll understand when you see it on the day of the festival."
"How many booths are you using?"
"We started with two. Then we heard the one beside us had fallen through, so we're just keeping our things there. Three in all, I think."
"The scale of it..."
"Please come by. I'll make sure you get a little extra. What are you doing at your booth?"
"Us? We're reading tarot. We're the tarot club. Us."
"Ah. Fortune-telling with those cards..."
Jane said it only out of politeness, and color rushed into Marseille's face. He launched into a grand lecture on tarot.
"Oh, you know tarot! Tarot, yes—if I begin with the origins—!"
"Understood! We'll definitely come on the day!"
Decame clamped his mouth shut, seized his clothes, and dragged him back into their booth.
"Hey—hey! What was that for? She looked interested!"
"President, tarot needs mystery. If you explain every last detail, what's left?"
"I suppose..."
"Then why did we even bring this crystal ball? We might as well have brought a cash box!"
"Fair."
An awkward silence settled between them. After a moment's thought, Decame sighed.
"We've got nothing else to do. Shall we read our own fortune?"
"Sure. Why not."
"The question is how our booth will do at the festival."
Decame sat, shuffled with practiced hands, and laid the cards out in a row.
Marseille chose three with great care.
When he turned them over, his expression turned peculiar.
"Ten of Cups, Four of Swords, Temperance?"
"Ten of Cups is happiness and satisfaction, but it can also mean rest. Four of Swords feels the same, doesn't it?"
"Overall, yes. Temperance is about balance and harmony. But why are satisfaction and rest coming up together? Rest and satisfaction... does that mean no one comes at all?"
"If no one comes, how are we satisfied?"
"That's true."
A reading that only left them more confused.
Exactly five days later, they would understand what it had meant.
Once he had given every instruction for the booth, Blow took a quick shower and returned to the inn.
Melo and Megan, who had been waiting as if their lives depended on it, came forward and paid their respects.
"Young maaaster!"
"Young master. You've returned."
Blow stroked the head of Melo, who had come pattering up to him, and looked at Megan.
"Nothing happen?"
"Ah—the goods for the potion shop arrived, so I received them. I wasn't sure how you wanted them arranged, so Hans and I only brought them inside for now."
"Good. Jane should be there by now. She'll sort it out herself. Evening setup?"
"All done. Lady Jane is off starting this evening, correct?"
"Yeah. She'll eat, then head to the potion shop. From now on she'll be there most of the time. There's a lot of research to do."
"It will succeed! I'm certain of it!"
A little later a knock sounded at the inn door, and everyone turned.
"Hm? Who is it? Rowbedi?"
"He said he'd be late today because of exams. Hm? It's Hervena and Lady Skadi."
Megan hurried to open the door.
In came a tired-looking Hervena, and a Skadi whose mouth was turned down at the corners.
"Megan."
"Oh, Hervena. It's been a while. Those circles under your eyes—exam season, no question. Pitch black. Rather like your future."
"...That's mean."
"The young master is inside. Go and greet him."
Hervena offered Blow her greeting first.
Skadi was carrying a wooden box. Glancing around the room, she lowered her voice to Megan.
"Jane isn't here?"
"Lady Jane is probably at the potion shop."
"I see."
"Is there a message you'd like me to pass along?"
"Ah—no. I'll tell her myself. Thanks for asking."
Megan tilted her head at the low voice.
Skadi stepped inside and looked at his face for a moment.
"Oh, Skadi. You're here?"
"......"
"Why do you look so awful? Something happen?"
"...No."
"No? What, did that Danvers do something to you again?"
"What! I came for beer! It's Friday...! Umhaha!"
She deflected, flashing a V with her fingers.
"Blow! I did really well on my written subjects this time!"
"You were working hard. Good."
"I must have a talent for studying!"
"I always figured you'd do well if you actually tried. Cindy used to say the same thing all the time."
"Oh, Cindy! It's been a while since I talked to her, too."
"Sit. You too, Hervena. It's exam season. You need to eat properly."
"Yes. Thank you, young master."
Once they were seated, Blow told them what had happened over the past few days.
In the meantime a dish was set before them: a white broth, and mussels with their shells gaping open.
"This one's milder than I expected, Blow Deblique."
"The taste won't be."
"Mussels are mussels."
Skadi spooned up the broth at once.
Her first impression was surprise.
Ordinary mussel stew, heavy with wine, brushed the tongue with brightness and then rose into savor. This one was clean. Refreshing.
"What is this? It's different from the mussel stew I always eat. My whole body feels warm!"
"Call it Blow-style white mussel stew."
"It tastes really strange. In a good way."
That was only the packaging. It was simply Korean mussel soup.
The mussel stews of this world were as Skadi knew them: wine and spices piled in until the flavor ran deep and rich. In this one he had used only enough wine to cut the fishiness, with a little scallion and a flick of peperoncino.
The aim, of course, was to come as close as he could to the mussel soup he had eaten in another world. There was no kelp, and none of those biting green chilies, so the flavor only reached about seventy percent of what he remembered.
Even Melo's eyes had gone round at the clean taste. The other two, duller of palate, needed no further convincing.
"It's the kind of taste that puts you in a good mood!"
"The mussels were fresh. The problem is, it doesn't really go with beer. White wine might suit it better."
Without meaning to, Blow thought of the clear liquor in green bottles he had known in his last world.
Even a beer fanatic like him had drunk soju with spicy food and with soup.
It needs rice. And soju. The next dish, too.
The moment he thought it, a sizzle rose from the kitchen.
Hervena turned toward the sound and smiled.
"Meat?"
"Yeah."
"What's the occasion? Don't tell me you're looking after us."
"Obviously not. I'm showing you the food for the booth before anyone else."
"That's cruel."
Blow waved a hand at her sulking.
"I'm joking. Joking. You and Skadi both—I just wanted to feed you meat. Eat. You'll feel better once you do."
A little later the grilled pork appeared: belly and neck, seasoned and cooked through.
Skadi and Hervena ate as if spellbound, and cries of delight burst from them almost at once.
"Blow, this is seriously the best!"
"The outside is so crisp."
"Melo must have been careful on the grill."
Blow put a piece of pork belly into his own mouth.
A crackling crust against a moist interior. The savor of the meat, a nutty richness that deepened the longer he chewed, and the light salt of the seasoning beneath it—a truly generous flavor.
Skadi swallowed the pork belly and immediately spooned mussel stew into her mouth. Her eyes flew open, and she shot Blow a thumbs-up.
"Eating them together is really good! I could keep going forever!"
"The meat never gets a chance to turn greasy, right?"
"Yeah!"
Hervena slipped into the conversation.
"What... is this called?"
"Which?"
"I was curious about the name. You always put so much thought into naming things."
He still hadn't decided, so the answer didn't come at once.
Then the contrast touched his tongue again—the pork belly's seared crust against the soft meat within. Crisp on the outside, tender inside. Or, as people liked to say, hard without and soft within. Blow let out a short laugh and shrugged.
"Let's see. Westriver grilled pork?"
"Why is my family name in there? D-don't tell me you're saying I'm fat? The clothes just sit loose, so I look puffy!"
"As if. Where are you going to find a kid as scrawny as you?"
Beside them, Megan tried a piece, burst out laughing, and nodded.
"As expected of the young master."
"What does it mean? Tell me."
"As a retainer, shouldn't you work that out yourself, Hervena Westriver?"
Megan chuckled, and Skadi chewed a piece of pork and smiled along with her.
"Umhaha! She's right, she's right!"
"What. So I'm the only one who doesn't get it."
Even so, having her own name worked in left Hervena quietly pleased, and the tips of her ears had gone a little red.
"Good. Name's settled. Both of these will sell fine at the booth, right?"
"It's a booth, so people will be eating outside, won't they? The mussels are going to get a real reaction."
"That was very much the point. You said your exams went well, Skadi. Nice of you to read the examiner's intent."
"Haha! Obviously! Is the mussel stew just called white mussel stew?"
"That was the plan. Why?"
"You put Hervena's name on hers, so put mine on this one."
Blow drew a finger along his chin and nodded.
"Fine. Skadi Mussel Stew it is."
"Umhaha, I like it!!"
"Warm and filling. Rather like you."
Skadi startled, and a smile spread across her face. Then she called out brightly.
"I want a drink!"
"I was wondering when you'd say it."
A beer was set in front of her a moment later. Hervena, who had been thoughtfully working through the meat, asked as if in passing.
"Is that the whole booth menu?"
"Hardly. The pork and the mussel stew are Melo's."
"Melo always does the cooking."
"What are you talking about? You and Hans are running the booth on the other side."
"What?"
"That's what we agreed. Skadi—do you remember, or not?"
Skadi recalled the conversation, swallowed dryly, and asked.
"We did, didn't we? You're not about to make us do something weird, are you?"
"First, both of you sleep properly the night before. Understood?"
"What exactly are you planning, that you'd say that?"
"Here. The plan."
Hervena read down the paper Blow held out, and doubt settled over her face.
"You're really going to do it like this?"
"Yeah. This time the two of you have a pretty large part."
"Why is the promotion section blank?"
"Because the two of you are going to fill it in properly. With magic."
At that, both of them narrowed their eyes.
The inn door opened. Jane and Linne came in, their breath white on the air.
Blow saw them and clapped, sharp enough to crack.
"Good. The last of us are here. Let's put our heads together."
A few days later, the day of the Central Academy festival.
The festival began at ten in the morning, so students running booths had been setting up since eight.
That included Delter Zayd, whose booth sat in the very middle of the main square.
"The sugar's ready?"
"Yes!"
"Don't be stingy—pile it in! Father's stopping by today!"
"Yes, understood!"
His servants answered at once.
He made a circuit, nodded with satisfaction, and stepped outside for a moment—only to find that everyone on the street had their eyes stolen by something.
What?
Delter turned toward where they were all looking.
And lost the words in his mouth.
Their gazes were fixed on the roof of the Culture Hall.
Sprawled across it, scratching its belly, was an enormous white bear cub.